The King Is Mine
by NihonBara
Summary: No matter what Alfred will have Ivan Braginski beneath him, and Ivan wants to top Alfred on more than just the scoreboard. College/ Swim Team AU.
1. Topping The King

**The King Is Mine  
**

* * *

 _No matter what Alfred will have Ivan Braginski beneath him, and Ivan wants to top Alfred on more than just the scoreboard. College/ Swim Team AU._

* * *

Now was the hour that Alfred F. Jones forced Ivan Braginski to squirm underneath him and become _his_ Queen.

Alfred had pictured, dreamed, prayed, and trained so long for this.

Alone in his dorm room, he sometimes jacked off to fantasies of the moment Ivan realized what Alfred had done to him, of those violet-grey eyes widening in disbelief; of that rounded face of carved features contorting into disbelief and agony.

Alfred wanted the man to scream from the pain, from knowing what it felt like to be on bottom. To know that Alfred had topped him, and his own helplessness to stop it.

This dark desire consumed Alfred.

All he could think about anymore was knocking off Ivan from the _King_ ranking on the white scoreboard that dominated the ambitions of everyone on Hetalia University's swim team. Seeing his name and score written in black marker beneath Ivan's physically hurt his heart.

Alfred had been stuck as Queen for too long. He needed, no _deserved_ , to be the King.

On the first Friday of every month was Race Day, the chance to win or lose your rank on the scoreboard for that month. The lowest ranked (usually Raivis or Feliciano) got the shittiest chores.

Not once had Ivan ever lost the King Rank. Only once had Alfred ever lost the Queen Rank.

 _Today is the day to be the King_ , Alfred told himself, settling into his crouch by the poolside. Ivan would sink beneath him.

Even through his nose plug he could smell the chlorine from the bright blue pool water. His heels pressed into the plastic lip of the starting block, what all swimmers pushed off to optimize the power their launch. The bottoms of his feet pressed into the front of the block's wedge.

The white plastic of the block was wet and cool in his grip. His fingers curled around the edge.

Like all swimmers, he had splashed water on himself before the race and slapped his chest red. Non-swimmers were confused by such things.

Although his goggles limited his vision, he could see clearly to the other side of the pool, his lane lined on either side by a rope of neon orange buoys. He did not need to look to feel Ivan's evil aura beside him, the man was evil incarnate.

As King and Queen they always got the lanes side-by-side to each other.

Ivan's muscular figure, flexing and exposed but for the navy-blue speedo of, each muscles glistening with dampness, his ash-blonde hair tucked under his swim cap with his goggles, the same as Alfred's wheat-blond.

Alfred could visualize every curve and muscle of Ivan's cut figure, and sometimes in _other_ , less-hostile fantasies, he had visualized his lips exploring those curves.

Of course, Alfred would never admit to his lewd thoughts, not even to room mate, Toris.

"Get ready!" Their coach, Ludwig, shouted, no doubt raising his gun to fire the blank that signaled their start. "I want to see Olympiads in you! Feliciano, get back into position!"

"V-ve!" the man squeaked from further left of Ivan. Their coach was always hard on the younger Vargas brother. From what Alfred had heard, Ludwig greatly respected and admired Feliciano's grandfather, a legendary gold-medalist swimmer from Italy. Ludwig found Feliciano to be a disappointment by comparison.

Alfred did not move, holding his position, waiting for the sound of the gun.

"Ready to cry like a bitch again, Fredka?" Ivan whispered darkly beside him.

He forced back a frown.

 _Don't let him distract you. He likes to mind fuck his opponents_ , Alfred reminded himself.

Ivan was a shark both in the water and out.

"Writhing beneath me suits you."

Alfred dug his fingernails into the edge of the staring block, wanting to throttle the bastard. It would not be the first time they had thrown punches at each other.

"I'm gonna fuck you over hard," Alfred breathed.

Ivan chuckled. Just before the gun banged, Ivan added, "I can't wait to fuck you hard."

The distraction of those shocking words cost Alfred a second, a very crucial second.

* * *

"That dirty, scheming son of a bitch!" Alfred snarled, ripping open his locker.

He had thrown on his winter coat after toweling off and getting his time from the coach. They wore heavy coats to keep their muscles loose and relaxed.

After grabbing his duffel bag, he slammed his locker shut and stomped into the showers just as his team mates entered.

"Ah, Mon Dieu, King again?" Francis mused. "Always."

Ivan gave that eerie giggle.

That was all Alfred heard of Ivan as he left.

 _Rotten, cheating scumbag._

* * *

Finally, Alfred twisted the knob of his shower. The spray of hot water stopped.

Cocking his head right, he listened and when he was satisfied his team mates had all left, he opened his shower door and began slipping on his white and navy blue track suit, one that had Hetalia Swim Team written in print on the back and above the left breast.

He paused to pick up his I-phone — colored like the US flag on the back — out of the thread basket with his stuff.

 _One missed message_ , the screen said.

It was from Toris.

 _Are you King?_ Alfred grit his teeth at that. _Want to celebrate or mourn at the Mint Bunny?_

"I shouldn't," he muttered aloud, hardly noticed the echo in the hall of private showers.

Switching on "Born In The USA", he plugged in his ear buds, allowing Bruce Springsteen to drown out his worries.

After collecting his stuff, he headed out of the showers, gaze focused on his phone screen as he wrote Toris a message. Alfred didn't even realize he read his reply allowed, saying, "Mint Bunny sounds awesome, dude."

Nor did he notice the figure sitting alone one of the benches in the corner, one that raised a hand and tried to greet him.

All Alfred heard was Bruce Springteen as he walked out.

* * *

 **Note #1 —** What do you think of this very short story? One more part to go and find out who comes out on top. ;)


	2. Big And Salty

**Note #1 —** I forgot to tag the first part as Rusame. I posted it, went on a trip, and realized my blunder. Fixed it now.

* * *

 **Note #2 —** This chapter is _nuts_.

* * *

 **Big And Salty  
**

* * *

Choking on Arthur's large nuts, their salty flavor brought tears to Alfred's eyes.

Arthur smirked, his lime-green eyes glittering in the dim light with cruel pleasure. "Too much for you, git?"

Glaring through his watery eyes, Alfred fumbled for his glass of water and, finding it, ripped it off the polished mahogany counter. After gulping down the cool, tangy liquid, he smacked his lips together and slammed the glass down.

"Not even close. Got any more?"

Arthur nearly dropped the steel shaker, his smile falling off. " _Git!_ You looked about to need resuscitation just now!"

"That? _Psshaa!_ " Alfred snorted, waving a hand dismissively at the now empty, black plastic bowl. "I've rammed bigger things than nuts down here." He pointed at his throat. For some reason Toris gasped from his left and Arthur's jaw fell open. Did they not believe him? "It's true! Remember? I told ya. I was Junior Hot Dog _and_ Hamburger Eating Champ at the Iowa State Fair for _three —,"_ Alfred held up three fingers, "— years in a row. There's nothing I can fit in here. My jaw practically unhinges. Zero gag reflex!"

He grinned and puffed out his chest proudly.

Arthur's fuzzy eyebrow climbed so high it disappeared into the bangs of his messy blonde-hair. Then Arthur threw his head back laughing and set down the canister he was mixing Toris' drink in as he slumped over the counter, wiping tears out of his eyes from how hard he laughed.

"Artie. What's so funny? Tory, Artie's gone _nuts_. Get it?" He ribbed Toris lightly, but the man sat stiff on his stool, side plastered against the wood-paneled wall on his right. His hands clutched his now empty shot glass in a death grip, one he gazed at fixedly. "Yo, you got a fever or something?"

Toris's face had reddened. His lips pressed tightly and he only made a sound like ' _Mmmph_ '.

Finally, it hit Alfred. Frowning at both of them, he jabbed an accusing finger at Arthur who stopped laughing. "You've never believed me! This whole time. You thought I was making it up!"

"What?" Arthur dead-panned.

"Well," Alfred slid over the laminated, black menu and said, "Get me your biggest sausage! I'll show all of you what this hero can do!"

A blush spread from Arthur's cheeks to his ears. "That is a-absolutely not allowed in this establishment, git. We are now that kind of place!"

"Then why are german sausages on the menu?" Alfred demanded, pressing a forefinger down hard.

Arthur massaged the bridges of his nose, narrow nostrils flaring. "Good God, git! Can you be any more oblivious to the mood? Don't you hear yourself?"

A soft tug on the sleeve of his brown leather jacket brought Alfred's attention back to Toris who, still not meeting his eyes, said meekly, "A-Al… perhaps you're misunderstanding."

"No, I got it! Between losing to that cheatin' bastard and my own friends thinking I'm a liar, my day has been _perfect!_ "

"Oh, you lost again?" Arthur asked, his giant eyebrow forming a tiny split in the middle as they went downward around the sides of his round eyes.

"Yeah…" For once his smile slipped off. Toris patted his shoulder.

Arthur set two shot glasses on the counter in front of Alfred. "Whiskey, tonight. These two are on the house."

"Really?" Alfred grinned. Mood instantly brightening. "Aw, Artie. You're the best. Let me hug you!"

He threw out his arms, but Arthur held up his palms. "Don't get carried away, _git!_ "

"I knew I could count on you. You're like the big brother I never had!" Alfred declared.

"You have a big brother," Arthur said. "Mattie? Remember?"

"Who?" Arthur scowled at him. "I'm just messing with you. Mattie's not my big brother."

"He was born first."

"I was conceived first."

Arthur paused, staring at Alfred. "How the bloody hell would you know that?"

"I just know. The hero knows these things," Alfred said, jerking a thumb against his chest. "So there we were, floating in our mother's womb. It was time for my heroic entrance into the world and I let Mattie go first. You know, as a 'ladies first' kind-of-thing."

"You're full of shit, you know that?" Arthur replied, shaking his head. He looked down to hide the smile peeking out from his scowl.

Alfred grinned and added, with a wink, "I was doing my manly duty in the womb and letting my big sister out first."

Even Toris chuckled. "Bullshit, Al. Mattie came first."

"Only cause I let him. The hero always makes sure everyone gets out first."

"Admit it, git. You were too stupid to figure out where the birth canal was," Arthur said wryly. Toris laughed at that.

"Untrue! That's not what happened!"

They continued their banter as Arthur finished Toris' drink and poured Alfred's whiskey — on the rocks, how Alfred loved it — Alfred spun the plastic bowl around his forefinger.

"So…" he began. "How about more nuts?"

"No. And I've warned you about calling me _Artie_."

"C'mon, Artie," Alfred said, as if not listening, "Your nuts taste amazing!" Arthur rolled his eyes. Toris slapped a palm to his forehead. Alfred interpreted their reactions as disbelief. "It's true. They're the perfect combo of salty and sweet. And they're even better if you lick first."

"Git, please stop talking." Arthur set their drinks on the counter.

"A toast?" Alfred picked up his glass.

"I'm on duty," Arthur said. A lady on the end of the increasingly crowded bar called for him to come over.

"Water's fine." Alfred gave his puppy dog eyes.

"Fine." Arthur filled a glass and they all raised their drinks, clinked, and downed them.

"That burns," Alfred said, wiping his lips with the back of his mouth. He put his glass down. "Keep 'em coming. I want the room spinnin' tonight."

* * *

By ten, the Mint Bunny was hopping, and Arthur hopped to and fro with no time for Toris and Alfred.

"Is this like the billionth shot?" Alfred slurred, swirling the little bit of whiskey left in his current round. "I lost count after that tequila."

"I don't even know how to count anymore," Toris muttered, wobbling in his seat. He stood up and sank back down. Then stood up again. "Gotta pee," he muttered before stumbling off through the thick crowds toward the toilets on the other side.

"Choosin' your bladder over your bro!" Alfred hollered over his shoulder. "What's the world coming to?"

Without looking back, Toris shot him the finger. Then the back of his long, blond head of hair and his forest-green sweater vanished into the crowd.

"Fucker." Alfred grinned, grabbing a handful of nuts to munch on. Arthur had caved — as he knew he would — and gave him more.

Still nursing his latest shot of whiskey, he did not look immediately over when Toris sat down, set his drink on the counter, and reached into Alfred's bowl for nuts.

Pushing up his glasses, he turned in his seat. "That was fast. You…" he trailed off at the sight of none other than Ivan Braginsky's bulky form wedged into the seat that had formerly occupied Toris.

Chucking _Alfred's_ nuts into his mouth, Ivan smiled that eerie, child-like one he did so well, and said, "Hello, _Fredka ~"_

It reminded Alfred of Anthony Hopkin's " _Hello, Clarice_ ," from _Silent of the Lambs_ , a movie that gave _Mattie_ nightmares. Not Alfred. Alfred totally never freaked out about horror movies. He only grappled onto Matthew to calm his brother down.

"What the fuck?" Alfred blurted out, ripping his bowl of nuts away and caging them protectively with his arms. "How dare you touch my fucking _nuts!_ "

The bastard leaned forward, showing one in his front teeth that he crushed with ease before swallowing them down. Licking his pale, pink lips slowly, he said, "But I like swallowing your _nuts_."

For some reason the husky way he said that caused Alfred's face to heat up. Despite the haze of alcohol, Alfred could still be affected by the man's evil aura.

"I hope you choke on them. They're big, American-brand nuts. Not like your itty-bitty, extra small Russian crap that taste like shit, I bet." A blush pinked Ivan's cheeks, or maybe it was the dim light of the bar fooling Alfred's eyes.

"I can assure you mine are very large and you would not object to their flavor."

Alfred frowned. "Like you know jack shit about me."

"Don't play dumb, Fredka. We both know what you want," Ivan the Terrible said.

"Yeah. My nuts."

"That I want."

"Get your own."

"I want _yours_."

Alfred scowled. _What an asshole_.

If he stood and walked off to the toilets to find Toris, he would a) lose their seats b) admit defeat to this son of a bitch and c) probably stumble from the alcohol in his system.

"You're not getting mine. Now go crawl back into whatevah dank cave you crawled out of!"

Ivan gulped the rest of what was likely vodka down and left it on the counter as he loomed over Alfred. Refusing to budge, Alfred met his glare. He could smell the stink of the man's minty, vodka-infested breathe.

"Fredka, I want your _nuts_. Your cocks. Your balls. Whatever you want to call them. I want you in my bed tonight," Ivan said. Alfred's brain shut down as his mind failed to process. His gaze flickered down to Alfred's crotch.

 _Ivan… is…gay?_

Alfred had heard rumors, but he had never believed they shared this in common. He had always thought of Ivan as a sexless robot, incapable of _that._

Warmth exploded from the pit of Alfred's stomach and across every inch of his skin. Sex with Ivan? Sleeping with the enemy?

Still in a state of shock, Alfred went to default mode. "Fuck off!" He stared at his nuts, face burning, and his voice higher-pitched than he meant.

"Afraid?" Ivan's breathe tickled his inner ear. A shiver ran through his body and he felt a twitch in his groin.

"N-No!" Alfred said. "It's not happening."

There was a pause. In a seductive voice, Ivan said, "Let's play for King of the bed. First one to orgasm is the Queen." His hand slid onto Alfred's thighs and squeezed. The hand slid onto Alfred's crotch. "See if you can top me."

With a gasp, Alfred clutched his nuts tighter, heart thumping. He licked his dry lips, tongue scraping.

"I…that…"

 _King?_

* * *

When Toris returned to his seat, he saw Alfred's bowl of nuts on top of a hastily-written, barely legible napkin.

There was no Alfred. In fact, a woman sat in Alfred's seat chatting with another man, oblivious to Toris.

He frowned, grabbing the note and holding it up to the blue light of the bar. It read:

 _Sorry to bail. Heroic duty calls. Paid the tab. I'll text ya tomorrow!_

 _Enjoy Artie's nuts! As salty as him!_

 _Laters,_

 _the Hero_

"The hell?" Toris said.

* * *

 **Note #1 —** Did I say two parts? I meant _three!_ *holds up three fingers* Three!

* * *

 **Challenge —** How nutty are you? Care to add to the nut-ridden euphemisms? ;)


	3. Misunderstandings and Understandings

**Note # 1 —** I did it! I took the plunge. The tumblr plunge and you'll never figure out it's me with an account named "Itsnihonbara". See, completely impossible to identify!

Muwahaha.

I realized it's a good way to share fan art and for fans to interact. I also plan to post some of my fanfics there. Check it out if you're interested!

Also its a good back up if ff net goes down or takes my stuff down.

Bet you can't find me ;)

* * *

 **Misunderstandings and Understandings  
**

* * *

Ever hear of a _wet_ nightmare?

It's like a wet dream, but horrifying. Like being trapped in Christian Grey's red room.

Or so Alfred told himself.

The memories didn't come slowly; they came as a tsunami. Vivid and destructive. For a moment he could not move on the bed nor open his eyes. All he could see was a blurred repay of what happened, of being thrown against at brick wall, lips locked in a searing kiss as he fought for dominance, and hands everywhere. His hands explorer Ivan; Ivan's hands exploring him.

After he had been dry humped hard into the wall, they rushed to the nearest bed. They continued to grope each other during their lust-fueled, drunken journey. At some point, an impatient Alfred, dropped to his knees and proved to Ivan how little "gag-reflex" he had.

Many things remained fuzzy, but Alfred remembered staring at Ivan's face, watching it intently as the man's eyes screwed up. The bright half moon and starry sky had been above. Ivan had been moaning his name and digging his finger into Alfred's scalp as he climaxed.

The taste had been _salty_ with a hint of chlorine.

Now Alfred regretted it all.

His body felt like one big bruise and his backside ached to the point that every movement sent pain shooting up his spine.

Resigned to his fate, Alfred cracked open his eyes. He was in Ivan's sparsely-furbished room of grey plaster walls, laying on Ivan's bad, wedged in one corner against the wall, and Ivan was nestled against his his side, armed draped possessively across Alfred's stomach.

If rage had not seized Alfred, he might have thought Ivan's sleeping expression cute in the late morning light come from the room's sole window across from the end of the bed.

Instead all Alfred could see, as his gaze traveled down and down was his bruised, bitten, and hickey-ridden body. Even his inner thights had hickeys!

He snapped.

 _I'll kill him!_

"Motherfucker!" Alfred cried, shoving Ivan hard into the wall. He scrambled off the bed, yanking off the sheet to wrap around his waist. "What have you done?"

An awake and grumpy Ivan sat up, regarding him through bleary eyes.

"What did I do?" He didn't bother to cover up until Alfred tossed a hand towel at his lap. "You played an active part."

"I was drunk!"

"So was I. That did not stop us fornicating." Ivan plastered on that creepy smile as he emphasized that last word.

"I was confused."

"You were horny. Look what you did," Ivan said, waving a hand at his equally bruised up, bitten, and hickey-covered body. "I remember being thrown into a tree and pinned there while you grinned and yelled 'Gonna blow this job!'."

The bastard even mimicked Alfred's way of talking as he said that last part.

Alfred's hated and he shifted his weight, feeling the rug underneath them. "This is a disaster. We're on the fucking swim team. We can't cover this shit up!"

"Don't worry, Fredka. Come. Sit down. Let us become one again."

"Hell no!" It came out more shrilly than intended as Alfred began to pace, gathering up his clothes in a pile while his other hand held the sheet around his waist.

"I feel you are anxious."

Alfred scowled at him. "No shit, Sherlock! The whole swim team is gonna know about this! We wear speedos, asshole!"

"Da," Ivan said. "I fail to see the problem."

Waving a hand at his body, Alfred said, "How the fuck do we swim tomorrow?"

"By diving into the pool and moving our warms."

"I know that, idiot! We wear speedos. Francis and the others will notice! It'll take days for these to fade!"

"The french bastard has had worse."

"We looked like we mauled each other! What did you do to me?"

"Pound into you as you screamed my name," Ivan said brightly. He patted his lap.

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Is your anger from us becoming one or from others knowing we became one?" Ivan asked in his strange way.

Alfred paused and lied. "Both."

"Hmm…?" Ivan arched a silvery-white eyebrow. "I am rather proud of these badges of honor you left me. I can now say I wrestled and had sex with an American Grizzly."

Alfred nearly tripped and dropped the shit. "Say _what?_ "

The sudden movement of his head caused it to hurt. Grabbing the top of his head, he patted it. "Why is it so tender here?"

"The headboard," Ivan explained. He pointed at the now cracked headboard.

Remembering, Alfred flushed. "I'm in a nightmare! And you're not helping!"

"I could," Ivan offered, patting beside him again. "Why not round five? You could top."

Alfred halted, feeling a throb in his groin. "What did you say?"

"You could ride me?"

"No, no! That's not what you said." Suddenly, Alfred let go of the sheet and loomed over Ivan who looked nervous. "Top. Yes. Top the great Ivan Braginski."

His grin might have frightened small children; it certainly made Ivan look nervous.

"W-wait… I."

Alfred cupped Ivan's cheeks and dragged the man into a heated kiss, pushing his tongue in. When he elicited a moan from the man, he pulled back.

"I'm not the only one whose ass will be sore," Alfred said and pounced on Ivan. "I'm above you."

* * *

"Mein gott," Ludwig said, dropping his stop watch as a very regretful Ivan and Alfred removed their winter coats at the pool side and tossed them in nearby containers.

Alfred went bright red and would not make eye contact as everyone took in the both of them.

Francis gave an appreciative whistle and called, "Fun night, mon lapin? I see you settled your differences at last. Does love not conquer all?"

Alfred gave him the finger. Both slightly limped as they moved. Feliciano was as red as a tomato and Gilbert catcalled and whooped until Ludwig waved him to silence.

Approaching both of them, a stern Ludwig eyed them both.

"Care to explain?" Ludwig asked.

"Uh… uh…" Alfred swallowed hard, blushing all over. "We… uh…"

"What have I said about team members getting physical?" Ludwig asked.

"Sorry, coach," Alfred said. "It just happened. It was his fault! I was at the Mint Bunny—."

"Oh, Arthur's bar?" Ludwig said. His tone was brighter, but his expression remained grim.

"Yeah…"

"Arthur has very tasty nuts, don't you think?" Awkward silence followed. Francis's eyes twinkled in amusement.

"For sho!" Alfred agreed, as clueless to the mood as Ludwig. "I love how sweet and salty they are! I love licking them!"

Someone groaned audibly and Gilbert snorted with laughter.

"Th-the point is!" Ludwig said, snapping back to stern. "Liquor is no excuse for physical altercations between team members."

"Physical… altercations?"

"Fighting," Ludwig said. "You could injure each other. Isn't that what happened?"

There was stunned silence.

"Y-yeah! That's all that happened," Alfred quickly agreed. Ivan nodded. With a nervous laugh, he rubbed the back of his head. "And we sure feel bad about it. Don't we, Ivan?"

Ivan nodded. "Da. Fighting is wrong. Unless you win."

Alfred tried not to roll his eyes.

"No more violence. There are better ways to work out aggression," Ludwig said.

Alfred and Ivan nodded.

"Absolutely," Alfred said.

"I can think of several positions," Ivan said.

Ludwig frowned and Alfred elbowed Ivan hard and then apologized at Ludwig's withering look.

"No more fighting." Then Ludwig walked off towards Feliciano and Francis yelling at them to warm up and stop gawking.

"Whew, thank God, coach is clueless," Alfred muttered as he started to stretch. Ivan caught his upper arm. "What?"

The man had a very troubled expression. Darkly, he asked, "What kind of relationship do you have with that bartender, Arthur?"

"What's you're talking about? We're close."

"Close enough to lick his nuts?" Now Ivan radiated a jealous aura. "You are not speaking of food."

"Huh?"

"We must be clear and honest that you are mine." That was the only warning before Alfred was yanked into a brutal kiss in front of the whole swim team.

More whistles and catcalls and cries of "Oh baby!"

Then Ludwig blew into his whistle and said, "That is not what I meant!"

Before Ivan let go of a stunned Alfred, he whispered in the man's ear in a low and husky voice, "My queen, only you may top again. If you _win_."

"You mean when." Alfred winked.

There was more than one day to top Ivan.

* * *

 **Fin**


End file.
